the truth is, i have mixed feelings about my new apartment.

there is much that is good about it: it's not as far from the university as i had feared - it takes me 25minutes (or six 優客李林songs on the 認错 album) to walk in to the department, while the major bus stops and central square T stop are within ten minutes, walking. the roommates have been genial and helpful and one of them said to me, much to my merriment, i didn't know whether your things will fit in the room because i know you're an english major so you probably have 5000 books. there's a lot of privacy, and quiet, and organisation too (there's a rota for chores, and an accounts sheet to record your purchases for the household which at the end of the month is divided by three and two shares reimbursed to you.) my bedroom, though the smallest, is spacious enough, and i am starting, slowly, to make it look homely (my boxes are being sent to me and in three or four weeks i shall be able to decorate more fully (i am especially missing my old curtains, polished sharp green cotton over striped green organza.)) the rent is a little lower than i would have expected to pay. (although the happy difference may simply be cancelled out as transport costs have soared in the one year i've been away (the T now costs $1.70) though were i not impecunious that would be something to be happy about too - i love rapid transit systems, and i like seeing them improved.)

it's just that there is also much that makes me uneasy about the house, and a great deal of it is an uncomfortable feeling about the landlord, even though i have not yet met him. the house is not so much old (though it is that too) as ill-maintained, and this is perceivable: there are certain items, certain areas of the house, that are in some disrepair, but have not been replaced or improved. parts of the sliding door on my closet have become detached from the rail, and the blinds on my window have a few broken slats. along the base of the room walls are heating elements, and in several places the metal covering over them have fallen off, exposing the interiors. many of the doors are sticky, and their knobs rattle alarmingly and turn poorly. plugs fall out of the electrical outlets; where they stay in the outlets are unreliable when more than one appliance is in use at once. the roommates say they have complained about the washing machine over half a year ago (not having done laundry myself i am unable to say what exactly is wrong, but i gather that they've found it unsatisfactory.) but no repair has been effected. one feels that these are things a more attentive landlord would have taken action about. and i suppose those are things one might get used to, finding in time, perhaps, a special way to twist this door handle, or the right place to thump on that window catch, the precise floorboards to sidestep, and there is also rearranging furnishing around the unsightly portions, and even to do some handy work or my own (well what did von buy me a toolbox for, i ask.) but there are other things about the upkeep of this house that make me feel unsafe. on my second evening i came home after dark and was acutally afraid, for i had to come up a narrow, pitch-black driveway (the automatic spotlight is spoilt and hasn't been repaired) and unlock the front door by touch (there is a porch light, yes, to be turned on from the inside only), come up narrow, rickety stairs in faint light filtered down from the third floor landing - it was fortunate that the third floor occupants left it on for there is no light for the ground floor entryway, and the second floor landing lights can only be switched on from upstairs, which is no good to you if you were at the bottom of the stairs to begin with. and finally, in front of my own door, fumble in the dark with keys for five minutes before i was able to let myself in. it is not only badly designed (anyone would have put in two way switches for the stairs) but, for anyone coming home after dark, difficult and treacherous too. i thought i would fall one day, and i mind not only because it was dangerous, but that the owner obviously didn't care enough about whether his property was safe for us, and to do anything about it.